


Manipulations Of The Mind

by InsanityisReality



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 02:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18459605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanityisReality/pseuds/InsanityisReality
Summary: A series of short stories with twists and turns as Ichigo's mind is toyed with in every way imaginable. Dark, with various pairings. Smut and all the wonderful things that come with it!





	1. Astraphobia

….

It was odd, the way his body reacted when rain slid down the window. 

It was like some forgotten memory. He knew he liked watching the drops of crystal as they raced down the glass in tiny rivulets, caressing a part of his mind that laid just out of reach. They were fingers, suddenly, in a moment of recognition before the teasing thought disappeared. He really found himself enjoying these moments, sitting down in a storm and just watching the outside world get covered in cleansing water. He could lose himself for hours just swimming in barely there thoughts of something he couldn’t quite remember. 

Ichigo shifted within the duvet chair, his muscles starting to ache. He’d been sitting for a while, he noted, and got up to wander into the kitchen. The sounds of the heavy downpour followed him through the house, a comforting symphony. The storm had started just shortly after he returned home from work, and he had felt the first few warm droplets as he walked up his front steps. From what the weatherman had predicted it seemed the rain wouldn’t be ceasing anytime soon. That suited him just fine though.

Ichigo’s love for this kind of weather had developed sometime during his adolescence, seemingly overnight. It had floored his father, Isshin, for reasons Ichigo didn’t understand. He just knew that it happened one night after a big storm had hit Karakura, the damage had been severe to the little town. People’s houses had flooded, trees had been ripped up from the ground, and the power had been out for days following. He couldn’t remember much of the event except the spindly feelings of… excitement. It curled in his belly, a dull ache for something more. It was a feeling that appeared whenever those first drops fell from a darkened sky. His father’s face always morphed into something disbelieving whenever Ichigo would insist upon sitting by the windows and watching the rain. 

“But… Ichigo, I thought you were afraid of-”

Ichigo shook his head, a brief furrowed look of confusion before the memory evaporated from his mind. He set his focus on the cupboards above the stove, unexpectedly in the mood for tea. It wasn’t something that he craved often so to his displeasure he found one half-empty container of green tea, a part of a housewarming gift from one of his friends if he recalled correctly. Ichigo began to prep the kettle on his stove, making sure to set a beeping timer in case he failed to hear the scream of the kettle. 

With that he went back into his living room, sitting heavily on the sofa and reaching for the remote. It was a Tuesday, so he wasn't planning on there being anything good to watch, he just needed something to keep his mind off the rain. He couldn’t let his eyes wander over to the windows, or he wouldn’t even hear the beeping timer on the stove.

It had happened before.

After flipping through an array of channels he settled on one of those dramatic therapy shows, the ones with the sixteen year old girl who was already pregnant and her bitchy mother who just complained what a brat her kid was. All the while a usually older gentleman sat in a chair and just nodded while occasionally inserting a one-line comment that fueled the drama unfolding to a booing audience. It was something that he personally thought was trash but it just might be enough of a train wreck to keep his mind somewhat focused. That’s all he needed after all, an easy distraction. 

He thought back to an awkward time in his life where his relationship with his father had become seriously strained. He couldn’t remember what silly thing had started it, but Isshin had insisted that his son go and see a therapist. Ichigo, at the time, fought tooth and nail against his father, claiming he was fine- that only crazy people went to see a therapist. 

“I don’t need a fucking therapist, dad!”

“Bullshit! This- this thing you’re doing… it’s not normal!”

“What thing?!”

“This! This complete 180, Ichigo! It’s not fucking normal!”

“Fuck you, old man! What the hell do you know about normal?”

In the end he had reluctantly given in, after the fights grew in volume and frequency, to the point where the cops had been called once or twice for ‘domestic disturbance’. It was easier to just give in to his father’s demands, tired of the arguing and how tense the atmosphere had become around the house. So he let his father make an appointment with one of the local therapists. 

He was no Dr. Phil, a man in his late thirties that was renowned for his excellence at handling patients of any age. His name was Sousuke Aizen, and Ichigo remembered how shockingly handsome and kind the man had been on the three visits he had attended, before the man stated that Ichigo wasn’t really in need of a therapist. 

“There is nothing particularly wrong with your son, Kurosaki-san. He’s an average boy, with average boy problems” 

“B-but, Aizen-san, what about his fear of-”

“As far as I can tell, your son has no major fears or phobias of any sort. I can continue seeing him if you wish it, I have many patients that come here simply because it’s a relaxing experience for them, but I’m telling you your son isn’t in need of a specialist’s care” 

It was nice, he had decided, sitting in a room and talking about his day to day life with the man. Aizen had very good insight and suggestions for him, and Ichigo had learned a lot about himself, despite not going for very long. It also helped him discover his sexuality. Aizen had been his first ever crush, and he realized with some reluctance that he wished there had been something wrong with him, just so he didn’t have to stop seeing the man. 

He faintly heard the kettle scream from the kitchen, and he got up, leaving a mother and daughter arguing on his T.V screen. He gently took the hot kettle from the burner and poured himself a generous cup of the earthy smelling tea. It was warm when it touched his lips, and he felt it spread down to his belly as he sighed. After turning off the stove, he went back to his living room, turning off the T.V and once again taking a seat on the small duvet over by the window. The rain had picked up ferocity and was almost unbearably loud as it drenched the streets. Ichigo closed his eyes and took another warm sip. 

His vision flashed with the sudden flare of lightning that ripped open the sky, loud thunder drumming to life shortly after.

“Mommy, I’m scared!”

His eye twitched. 

He didn’t think about his mother much, as disrespectful as that sounded. It wasn’t because the memories were painful just… scattered. He did miss her, but it was like trying to keep ahold of a handful of sand, in the end enjoying it more as it slipped through your fingers. If he tried to concentrate too long, his head began to pound, so it was just better to enjoy the tiny bits he could hold onto for a brief second- like her smile, or how soft her hand was when she ran her fingers through his shaggy hair. She was the kindest woman he had ever known, and he had been devastated with her death.

It had been a tragic car accident. His mother had swerved to avoid hitting a doe and her fawn as they crossed the road late at night. The car had hit an icy patch, sliding violently into a tree. They said she fought for a long time, trying to hold out as long as she could.

She’d passed away just as his father had arrived at the hospital emergency room, a tired Ichigo practically asleep in the car seat after being abruptly awoken and haphazardly dressed.

It had taken Ichigo a few days to fully comprehend that his mother was never coming home, and had taken him years to stop crying every time he looked to the picture of the three of them sitting on his desk. His father had never been the same either. He tried his best at being a single parent, but it certainly stretched him far beyond his limits as a human being. Ichigo had moved out the first chance he got, at the age of 18. He’d gotten a job at a local factory for about two years, working any overtime he could get his hands on, and once he saved up enough for an actual house instead of a dingy apartment, he quit the factory to find better work. 

Now he was living happily as an assistant for a candy shop owner. He was basically the man’s secretary- and was assigned anything the man didn’t want to do, which now that he thought about it, was a lot. It paid well enough though so he put up with the menial work the man often threw at him.

He sat in the music of the rain, finishing the last of his tea, when movement out of the corner of his eye had him glancing out his side window. There was nothing there, just a tiny glimpse of a growing bush that came with the house. A few tiny leaves swaying at the bottom corner of the glass. Ichigo’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, his brows drawing together in contemplation. Perhaps he had just imagined it? But he could have sworn he’d seen something…

A telephone ring burst through his thoughts. Startled, Ichigo quickly leaned over to the side table beside the duvet and scanned over the very familiar number that popped up on the screen.

His father was calling.

Reluctantly, he picked up the phone and answered with a gruff ‘hello’.

“Ichigo? This is your father, I…”

“Yeah dad, how are you?”

Isshin sounded a bit winded and that had alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind. Stale anger quickly muted them though. 

“What? Oh- I’ve been fine. Listen, Ichigo I’m calling because I need to know how you’re doing.”

He scowled, “I’ve been just peachy, dad.”

“No, no! I mean, I know there’s a storm over by your end of town. It’s not that bad yet, over here, but I thought that you might be…”

“Dad, for god’s sake, you call me every time a storm rolls in. You know they don’t bother me.”

There was a strangled whine on the other end. It was a mixture of frustration and urgency. 

“No, Ichigo, you don’t- just listen okay, I need you to pack some things and come and stay with me for a few days.”

“Now why in the hell would I do that? Are you in danger?”

“No! Just please come home? Or if you want I can come and stay with you? If that would be better for you-”

“Dad, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, I just want to spend some time with my son, that’s all.” Isshin laughed, a nervous and shaky sound. He was trying to play this off. 

“There’s something wrong with you. Maybe you need to go lay down for a few minutes.”

“Ichigo just listen to me! Please! Something’s not right-”

Ichigo glared at his phone and growled. The call had dropped. He wished he could just blame it on the weather but this happened quite a lot. He needed to contact his phone company and get one of them to fix it, or he would be forced to cancel them.

Not that it was urgent, his father had done similar things before. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, though Ichigo had never heard him sound so… uneasy before. Raking his hands through his hair, he got up from his spot with a grunt, grabbing his empty mug to put in the sink. He felt a nap was in order. 

He never noticed the pair of molten eyes watching him through the pouring rain.

….


	2. Astraphobia

….

He remembered the first time he saw the little boy with bright orange locks. It wasn’t by chance that they crossed paths, it was just business. It became something more, though, over time. 

Shiro, the monster hiding within the skies, made it his personal mission to meet every child who feared him. Every little babe or wobbly toddler that cried out in the middle of the night when his roars ripped open the dark clouds. He was feared by many, and he knew this fact and held it with a sort of twisted pride. He loved that humans were afraid of his wrath. 

One day, he’d heard the sweet sounds of a child crying out for its mother. Not an unusual sound, but something about this particular scream had him intrigued.

Or rather, what followed it…

“I will always protect you, sweet Ichigo” 

Never had he heard before such a heavy promise. 

Humans liked to promise things often, and he’d just about heard it all. Promises of the passing of time, or that dinner was almost ready, the ‘I’ll be on time’, and ‘I won’t do it again’ promises.

Humans made a lot of empty oaths to each other. It was also in their nature to be deceitful, however, so he could understand it was an almost unavoidable thing. Humans were, after all, only that. Human.

Shirosaki had understood that people were imperfect beings, they were not pure in anything they did- even in raw emotions such as anger or happiness. They tainted everything with selfish needs and desires, and he knew that made them ugly. 

And yet…

To this day, he didn’t even fully understand this drive for his newfound toy. The need to posses the very filth that he’d antagonized and tormented for so long. So much so that he’d taken away the one thing he loved to drive into the very core of any human being’s imperfect heart…

Fear.

His toy felt that fear no longer. No- he wanted his precious thing to feel desire. He wanted that warm adoration within those deep brown eyes as they gazed at him. Did that make him selfish? Perhaps, he mused with a smug grin as he watched his toy move about in his tiny dwelling. He practically purred with delight at the thought of claiming what was his. Stretching out that lithe body on the floor, holding thin wrists captive in one hand as he licked his way up that creamy neck. Tasting that oh so delicate flesh, catching it between his canines before biting down savagely. 

Oh how his toy would scream for him. 

….

He laid in bed, lulled into a state of half awareness by the gentle thuds of the rain. His mind drifting lazily from one thought to another in his haze. He could feel his eyes drooping, the ceiling blinking to darkness the longer he tried to stay awake. He wasn’t quite ready for sleep just yet though, and he tried his hardest to remain in this state before slumber took him.

This was the only time, it seemed, he could actually remember his childhood. He remembered things about himself that, for some reason, seemed to elude him during his waking hours. 

Like memories of his mother.

She had the most brilliant smile he’d ever seen. It was warm and loving, so generous in her love that seemed never ending for him. He always found it odd that during the day he couldn’t recall these small parts of her that, even to this day, made him happy. He loved these small details- her dimples, the curls of her hair, the brown of her eyes. It all mattered to him on such a level that it brought a faint pain to his chest. 

“I’ll always protect you”

Ichigo knew, there was something he was supposed to recall during these periods of lucidity, that there was a puzzle piece missing from his years forgotten that greatly defined who he was-

“I know there’s a storm over by your end of town…”

But no matter how hard he focused-

“There’s a storm…”

He couldn’t remember what it was.

A young Ichigo was stumbling about in a large hospital, trying to keep up with his father’s hurried steps. He had been told nothing but the initially harsh wake up his father had barked to him long into the night before rough hands had hurriedly dressed him. 

The lights all down the hallway were incredibly bright, blinding his still tired eyes. He did his best to keep his tiny arms up to shield himself while keeping track of his father. The man was already far ahead of him, practically running to the end of the long hallway, where, from what he could see, was quite chaotic with many doctors and nurses rushing in and out of a room. His father abruptly turned into that same room, and shortly after he heard the man cry out. 

“Misaki!” 

Little Ichigo then stopped running. Standing in the middle of a bustling hallway, unsure if he wanted to take those last few steps into the room at the end of the hall. He heard crying coming from inside…

His father was crying.

He’d never heard his father cry before. 

A male’s voice tried to break the sobs coming from Isshin, Ichigo assumed it was one of the doctors.

“The police think she swerved on one of the roads and hit a patch of ice. Maybe a deer or something had stepped out in front of the car. They didn’t give any specifics when they brought her in, but they did say she was somewhat coherent at the scene. She tried to hang on for as long as she could... She was a fighter.” 

He didn’t understand, not even as his father had come out of the room and took a hold of his tiny hands and he saw the blood that stained Isshin’s rough fingers. He didn’t get it. 

Where was mommy? 

Ichigo hadn’t seen his mother in the hospital that night, but from the look on his father’s face he was sure he probably didn’t want to. 

His father had searched for answers on what had happened to make his wife swerve from the road and hit a tree. The policemen that had been there all said the same thing.

Someone, or something had stepped out in front of the car. His mom had killed herself in order to avoid hitting whatever had been in the road. They’d heard her asking the same question repeatedly as they pulled her body to the ambulance- “Are they okay?”

There was something about the memory of his mother that uneased him. Something he was missing. 

The storm…

There was an urgency to remember this one important part of himself. It had something to do with his mother. He knew it had to be. What was it that his father had tried to tell him over the phone?

“Just please come home”

His mother’s eyes shined with pride as he handed her a hand painted picture of the three of them, immediately walking over to the fridge and hanging it up. She told him all the time that she loved the way he painted her smile. 

“This isn’t normal”

It was a quick funeral with his mother’s remains in a simple wooden casket. She had wanted to be buried next to her parents in the cemetery across town. It took much of his father’s earnings to give her even this much. They both had expected her to live much longer and would have saved up over time. Only a few close family had shown up to the burial. Ichigo and his father couldn’t stop crying. 

“But aren’t you afraid of-”

He had just turned 15, and was sitting by the window in the living room. He watched the rain as it slid down the glass, completely enamored with the dance it created. He could feel the gaze of his father, who was sitting over on the couch, pretending to be reading. Isshin always watched him when he did this- searching for something, some kind of reaction that Ichigo never gave. This is how the fights always began, when Isshin got tired of watching. 

“Aren’t you afraid of-” 

He ran towards his parents room after the first lightning strike, and couldn’t hold back the shrill scream as thunder rolled soon after. His mother was already opening the door, her arms outstretched to catch him as he practically flew into her embrace. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks and onto her robe. She was cooing softly to him as her hands glided through his tangled locks. This happened every time a storm struck. Her poor child was deathly afraid of them, and she could do nothing to stop as pure terror shook her baby’s body as his cries filled the house. 

“I will protect you, sweet Ichigo. Mommy’s here, and won't let anything happen to you”

His eyes flew open with startled clarity. His mind was trying desperately to hold onto the memories, even as they gently slipped away from his grasp the more his consciousness awoke. His body was still reeling with anxiety, trying to calm itself and all the while churning in raw fear. The rain outside coming down much harder than it was before, and the sounds sent his confused head pounding with sharp pains. He laid there, body spasming. Helpless. 

I’m afraid of… 

His mind grabbed for it, desperate, reaching out to hold it down and glare it in the face. He needed this one thing, and he knew it would make him whole again if he could just grasp this one thing. 

I’m afraid of-

Lightning lit up his room for a flashing instant and the thought escaped him completely as his eyes locked with the other occupant of his bedroom. 

There’s someone in my house. The realization was fighting as his eyes beheld the man with white hair and yellow eyes. 

Ichigo gasped in surprise, a yell building in his throat. Throwing off the covers, he leaped up out of bed and nearly fell to the ground. Light light light- his mind racing, eyes trying to once again find the intruder. He needed to make his way to the door, where the light switch was located- he needed to be able to fucking see. 

Everything was suddenly horrible chaos in his head as fear began to overtake him. He couldn’t think, everything was actions and rapid breaths, twitching and glaring at what he hoped was the man in his room. His hands itched for a weapon. Breathe in, shaky exhale, grasping fingers, sweaty palms-

Danger, danger, danger, red alert you idiot- find something to defend yourself, and be fucking snappy about it!

A watery chuckle made him pause in his mental breakdown, and his eyes whipped to the furthermost corner of the room. 

“What's the matter I-chi-go?”

Everything was wrong, everything sucked, this was awful. He tried to see, squinting at the dark corner to make out anything- anything he could throw something at. 

“Are you afraid?”

He swallowed the lead that had settled in his throat. His chest was almost hurting with how hard his heart was beating. He tried to clear his head. Fleeting thoughts tried to grab at him as his wobbly legs held him up by sheer will alone.

I’m afraid of…

The stranger purred at him, “There’s no need to be afraid, Ichigo. I’m not here to kill ya.” 

That was definitely closer, somewhere off to his right by the bed. He turned to face the voice head on. 

“What- what do you want?” 

Silence for a hairsbreadth then-

“What do I want?”

His body flung itself around, his arm swinging wildly. Something had touched his neck, like freezing fingers flicking his blindspot, the nails skimming his skin and creating goosebumps. His other arm came up to slam his hand down on his neck, the slap echoing right along with maniacal laughter. 

“Oh god… leave me alone.”

More cackles once again from behind him, back by the bed. 

“God’s not here, Ichi, just you and me.”

Ichigo whirled around to face the bed once more. He could see, barely, the outline of a body. It was taller than him by a few inches, their build about the same. He might be able to take this guy, he just needed a light. He wasn’t confident enough to leap for the man in the dark. 

“Leave me alone! I’ll give you anything you want, just- god please just leave me the fuck alone!”

“You’ll give me whatever I want hmm? Anything at all?”

“Yes! Yes! Anything!” 

“Then I’ll take that as your… consent.”

He didn’t have time to register the hand on his throat until it tightened and threw him backwards. His back connected with the wall, the air in his lungs stolen, leaving him gasping as he slid down to the floor. He just sat there dumbly, staring at nothing with defeat in his gaze. He’s so fucking strong… 

I’m so afraid… 

Soft footfalls approached him. Ichigo lifted his gaze to the man he couldn’t see, tears blurring his vision. The monster in his bedroom, here to devour him.

…..


End file.
